


Space Rabbit

by Ellienerd14



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, But lots of dghda references, Gen, Hank and North as a dynamic duo, IDK how much sense this will make without watching it, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 12:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16346351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellienerd14/pseuds/Ellienerd14
Summary: Deputy Sheriff in a tiny, uneventful town on the edge of Detroit, North's days are typically filled with paperwork, parking tickets and fighting the coffee machine. That all changes, when three stranger from out of town show up on a thirteen year old crime scene.Kara, Connor and Markus tell a strange tale of being confined in a corrupt government agency. It's just weird and dangerous enough to break the usual routine of dull police work. But, as the tale connects with Blackwing, the self-claimed 'deviants' and Jericho, an old ship in a field, is the cost of something interesting too high?





	Space Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> My DBH [playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/user/klaineygays/playlist/7pfrGUbJeKPArct6n5xsu6?si=w_RIoLmVR_-Y3-kczj14oQ) is here! 
> 
> Connor is Dirk in this - a semi-qualified quirky detective but with hints of Farah's anxiety and fighting skills. Kara is Todd - protective of her family to the end. Markus is himself mostly, he doesn't fit the other characters to me.
> 
> Named after episode 2X01 of Dirk Gently naturally.

Nothing ever happens in their little town. Anderson’s hardly the strictest boss in the world - even when she arrives late to work, there’s a good chance North is in a better state than him. He pours something extra in his coffee after long days, but he lets North drive the police car with the sirens on and never mentions her own record, so she pretends not to notice. 

It’s not that Detroit is a boring city. In fact, if North was an official detective with the DPD, she may have a little variety. A homicide, murder at a strip club or even a Red Ice bust - like the one that earned Anderson his promotion back in the day. But, they live on the outskirts of it, and Bergsberg is most definitely a boring town. The worst crime in the last three years she’s been working there is a robbed convenience store. She can only read about such exciting police work, sprinkled in with the occasionally bragging when Anderson's old co-workers visit and rub in their faces how much work they have. 

But, it’s not _unbearable,_ even if she longs for something that involves more work than sitting at her desk or calming down disrupts at the Bergsberg book club. North likes Anderson, despite his initial rudeness and day drinking. They get lunch together everyday and he turns a blind eye to any reports of bar fights she’s involved in. In return, North doesn’t mention the face down photo on the desk. 

He's one of her only friends, if she's honest. 

It’s not a bad job, _Deputy Sheriff,_ it just isn’t interesting. Mostly paperwork and parking tickets.

Until she shows up to work and finds three strange faces in the precinct. More accurately, in the cells. 

New people in Bergsberg was a surprise in itself. But, criminals... 

“Jesus North,” Anderson swears, intercepting her as soon as she steps through the door. She barely has time to take in the appearances of the three in their custody. “We got one hell of a situation here.”

 

* * *

 

**ARCHER, KARA**

**DESCRIPTION: 5’7, caucasian female. Late twenties. Blue eyes. Long brown hair. Violent tendencies.**

**Person of interest.**

 

**STERN, CONNOR**

**DESCRIPTION: 6’0, caucasian male. Early thirties. Blue eyes. Brown hair. Identifying scar, ring shaped, on temple. Trained in military tactics. Most likely armed.**

**Person of interest**

 

* * *

They have _fugitives._ Both arrested, earlier and with little resistance, by Anderson. In the middle of a cornfield, no less.

There’s a third man, dressed in a dark jumpsuit with a bright triangle on the chest. No shoes on. The three are talking together, quietly, glancing over at them. The woman - Kara - is smiling, weirdly enough. It's damn creepy. 

This whole thing is a nightmare already.

Anderson opens the door to his office and steps inside. North takes a seat, leaning with her head in her arms, balanced between old coffee cups and take out wrappers. (She’s starting to remember why she avoids Anderson’s office now. That and the stench of stale beer.)

“Jesus,” she echoes his earlier assessment, “the damn FBI have been looking for them for over a year and you find them in a field in the middle of Bergsberg.”

“Not just any field,” Anderson adds, “by _Jericho_.”

North looks up. That was even more interesting. Almost impressive, if she was the unprofessional type that supported criminals. 

“So, they trespass on the longest preserved crime scene in Detroit... and talk?”

Anderson nods. “They were hugging. Of all the places, Jericho. You need military permission to even get close to the gate. Guarded all the time, thanks to Perkins insistence.”

“How’d they manage?” North asks, even if she knows he doesn’t have the answers.

“No idea. One of the guards called it in. Too scared to pass the damn gate himself.”

“Josh?” she guesses. He wasn’t known for being brave. But, despite being an unfortunate mix of a goody two shoes and wimp, he’s one of her childhood friends. He was as fascinated with Jericho as she was. Expect her interest in the cold case led to fence climbing and his led to historical study. (He's only a guard as part of community service. Goody goody.) 

Anderson continues his story, drinking coffee from the nearest mug; her nose wrinkles at the sight, but North isn’t in a position to lecture her superior. It's part of their unspoken agreement anyway. 

“I went to go check it out. And it’s been a few years since I arrested anyone but it weren’t normal. Hands up, but the woman had to remind him to _‘be cool and put the gun down Connor’._ ”

North glances over to the prisoners again. Of all the days to be late…

“Is there any more on their files other than ‘person of interest’?”

“Nope.” Anderson sips his drink again. (A different cup this time. Equally disgusting.) “One more strange thing. When Josh called it in, he said there was two people by the docks. Fittin' Stern and Archer's description. When I went to check them out, there was three.”

“Josh might have missed one of them.”

Anderson leans back in his chair. “I don’t know. We need to find out more about them.”

North smirks. “Aren’t we meant to call the FBI?”

Anderson snorts. “You think Perkins will wanna see you again?”

“Because I broke his nose?” North laughs, even if the memory is bittersweet. “He shouldn’t have told me to smile or grabbed my-”

"I know," he interrupts. Anderson is suddenly serious. “Look North, the way I see it, we don’t have enough information to know what to do. Kara and Connor are only stated as a person of interest. Which must mean they don’t have anything solid to pin on them. Damn, we don’t even know how Markus is involved.”

Messing with the FBI isn’t a good idea - North learnt that the hard way last year. But, as soon as they come, they’ll take away Kara and Connor. Maybe even Markus too. Leaving them with no answers at all.

Nothing ever happens in their town.

They’d be stupid to lose this opportunity.

“For the sake of good police work,” North agrees, “we should look into them.”

 

* * *

 

They don’t have an interview room, so they use Anderson’s office. They both agree to interviewing all three of the trio separately. He goes first, followed by Kara. Then Connor. Then Markus.

Each interview gets progressively longer and Anderson comes out more and more frustrated. North watches as he locks the door on them and sinks into his chair. 

“Good luck,” Anderson tells her, “you’ll need it to keep up with their crazy story.”

 _Crazy,_ is a word he only ever uses to describe the '25 conspiracies and Rupert's pigeon feeding scheme. 

That bad then? 

 

* * *

 

 

North has been working on the force for two and half years. Not the 'real' DPD, as she's constantly reminded of, but as Deputy Sheriff. She can deal with stress and knows just how many times to hit the espresso machine to get a double shot. But, it's the first interrogation with real significance. 

(She picks Connor first, because he looks the nicest.) 

North takes a moment to study the man sat in front of her. They must have been on the run or something, because his hair is unkempt and greasy. A black beanie had covered the weird scar on his head, but without it, it’s a dead giveaway. It’s too perfectly circular to be natural but she can't figure out how he could have gotten it. 

He’s dressed like someone who is trying to blend in on a budget. Black jacket, dark jeans, thrift store boots.

Connor seems to be studying her too. North wonders what he sees in her oversized jumper and messy ponytail.

His eyes are mildly judgmental. What has he inferred? That she’s young cop only hired to keep her out of trouble? A twitchy violent young woman? Or what most men do: just another pretty face?

North uncurls her fist and picks up the file in an attempt to distract herself. Anderson had done the same; she hopes it’ll distract Connor too, from her own inexperience.

“How did you get into Jericho?” she begins. North keeps her voice calm, even if she’s got a hundred burning questions. Calmness helps in interviews.

“Where’s Jericho?” he asks in return.

North puts down the folder and pushes a photo towards him. It's an old one, iconic for the one attraction of Bergsberg. “The port we found you in. It’s guarded 24/7. Military issued locks but they weren’t broken.”

He shifts a little. “We found a hole in the fence.”

North sighs but writes it down.

“Why do the FBI want you?” she tries instead. “What did you do?”

“It’s what we are, not what we did,” he answers. It’s philosophy garbage, possibly, but he seems so damn earnest. How irradiating.

She decides to go along with it. “Then what are you?”

“They’ll take us back,” Connor ignores her completely, his focus on the police clippings on the wall, hands twitching slightly. He puts them on his lap and out of sight.

“Back where?”

“To Blackwing. To reprogram us. No, to test us. That’s what she called it.”

“Who?”

“Amanda.” He covers his mouth. “She’ll kill us if she knew we spoke to you. Not all of us. Just one. Just one as an example.”

He sounds afraid and something about his tone makes a chill run down her spine.

(No, not something.

The certainty.) 

North has more questions written on her paper and takes a deep breath. She must be professional. She _will_ be professional.

North smiles, it’s supposed to be comforting, but she's never been very good at being nice. “Tell me more about how you got here.”

 

* * *

 

Kara has clearly tried to conceal her identity during her time on the run. She must have bleached it or something because it’s snowy white and short. Like Connor, her clothes are tattered but basic. An outfit chosen carefully to blend in. Kara doesn’t start by staring at her coldly like her partner. She looks down instead, at the mostly cleaned desk.

“Why do the FBI want you?” North asks, using a gentle tone that matches Kara’s own. (Measured. Calm. Trustworthy.) “What are you a person of interest in?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

North sighs. “Not how these things work.”

“I’ll answer all your questions after,” Kara promises. She still isn’t looking at North, but Anderson’s desk. She moves pens around into piles by colour. Twitchy hands, like Connor.

_Green. Green. Blue._

It seems to calm her.

_Black. Red. Green._

“Fine.”

“There’s a list on our file right? Of known associates.”

“Yes.”

Kara pauses for a second. “Can you tell me if there’s a man called Luther on there?”

It’s a strange request. Far from the question North was expecting. She flicks through the file in front of her.

“Him?” North pushes a photo over to her. Kara takes it in hungrily with her eyes. (How long were they on the run? They both seem unstable. Freaky.)

Kara’s eyes well up. “Yes. He’s safe.”

A boyfriend or something, North concludes from the relief that seems to wash over her, _someone she loves._

“You’ll answer my questions now.”

“Yes, of course.” Kara forces herself to smile at them. “What do you want to know?”

“Why were you in hiding?”

“They were going to lock us up again. Like we were children. They already caught Markus. The case got too much attention. Too many photos.”

“What case?”

“Emma Phillips. We saved her.” Emma was in the news a few months ago. Her father was murdered and she disappeared the next day. (Anderson had been real upset that week. He always was, with cases involving children.)

Had those weirdos been involved? North hadn’t paid attention much to the case; that was when she was in trouble for decking Perkins in his smug little face.

North tries to seem indifferent. “What happened to her?”

Kara grimances. “Kidnapped… and…”

“You promised me the truth,” North reminds her.

“Turned into a dog. Well, her mind was stored in a dog. We transferred it back… into her body.”

North ignores all professionalism and bangs her head on the desk; pens scatter and Kara starts to reorganise them.

_Red. Blue. Black._

 

* * *

 

Before she gets to Markus, North decides coffee is the way to go. Luckily, as a police station with nothing but paperwork to do, they have more than enough, even if it requires a few bangs on the top.

“It’s tough, but it ain’t boring,” Anderson says. He drinks his own coffee. He prefers it black, whilst North drinks double espressos.  

“Do you think it’s true?” North asks, “the locked in a government facility story?”

“They seem pretty convinced,” he replies, “talk to Markus. Make up your mind. We’ll regroup later and compare notes.”

Anderson’s been working in the force since before the ‘25 incident. He was a high ranking officer, once. She was a juvenile arsonist. They’re both as out of place in the station as two high profile criminals. North doesn't mention any of this. 

“We won’t be calling the FBI today, will be?”

Anderson shakes his head. “No way in hell.”

North smiles and holds up her coffee in solidarity.

For once, she feels like a real cop.

 

* * *

 

Markus is still barefoot and dressed in the weird jumpsuit. Up close, North notices a matching blue stripe on his arm, as well as the blue triangle. The jumpsuit is ripped, exposing his shoulder and a little of his stomach. North looks away, fighting a blush.

(His eyes don’t match but it’s almost pretty.)

“Are you aware your companions are wanted by the FBI?”

Markus smiles, amused by something. His gaze is fixated on her and his hands aren’t twitchy. He already seems much more diplomatic than his friends.

“I’m aware,” he answers.

“Do you know why?” North continues. She meets Markus’ eyes in an unspoken challenge.

“We’re a danger to the state,” Markus rolls his eyes, “or people of interest. But to whom?”

_Smartass._

“Kara mentioned something about a place called ‘Blackwing’,” he flinches at the name, “can you tell me about there?”

Markus leans over the desk, into her personal space, and taps the triangle on his chest. “They recruit you when you’re young. They think they can control us better that way.”

“But, who are Blackwing? Control you how?”

Markus sits down again. “They called us psychic. But I don’t like that word.”

North sighs but writes down the alternative one that Markus offers her: _holistic._

**Author's Note:**

> I was rewatching Dirk Gently recently which sparked this idea for me, which spawned into this. I don't have any plans to continue this fic but if you're interested, let me know! 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this!  
> (Tumblr - @bazwillendinflames/twitter - @ellienerd14)


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